


Charcoal Sketches

by misura



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Noir
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 11:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "Next time, maybe don't try to punch the big, bad dinosaur?"





	Charcoal Sketches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fluffypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/gifts).



Tent: raised, dinner: roasting over the campfire. Sketch artist: installed by aforementioned campfire, a bit the worse for wear but conscious and therefore possibly open to some friendly man-to-man (or professional-to-amateur) advice.

"Next time, maybe don't try to punch the big, bad dinosaur?"

Steve managed a weak smile. Tony didn't like how pale he looked, even allowing for the part where up until now, Steve had spent most of his days in an office somewhere, sketching scantily clad (and wholly imaginary) gentlemen for a monthly magazine Tony had never heard of in his life, let alone read.

(In all fairness, it was not the sort of magazine one purchased for the articles.)

" 'cause that's your job?"

"You're damn right it is," Tony said, keeping a wary eye on the tree line. "Preferably from a safe distance and with a gun."

Steve grimaced. "That doesn't sound very heroic."

"Practical, though. Besides, if you'd ever bothered to read my adventures, you'd know I'm a gentleman-adventurer, not a hero. I'm expected to survive, at least until next month's issue."

"I've already started on the cover," Steve said.

Tony wondered if he ought to encourage thoughts of work to prevent Steve from seeking out any more fun with dinosaurs, or if it would be better to distract Steve with such things as the odds of their survival, now that Steve had gotten himself injured. "Already? You don't even know the story yet."

"We're not going to go anywhere new, are we?"

_We'll be lucky to still be alive._ Mostly Steve, in all fairness, but Tony'd be damned if he was just going to sit by and let Steve go the way of Virgil and a number of others before him.

"Probably not. I figure we wrap up this story line in another two months or so, then a big to-do when we get back to the civilized world, record sales, interviews, all that jazz. You might get a little famous yourself."

"Great. Just what I always wanted. Being famous."

"It has its moments," Tony said, not adding that they were mostly bad ones. For every moment you felt you had something to say and the means to make yourself heard to a whole bunch of people, there were ten moments you'd really rather have kept private. "I wouldn't worry about it too much though."

"Right. I might be dead by then."

"See? There's always a silver lining. Now how about you eat something and then it's off to bed, big day tomorrow."

Steve sighed, but he managed to eat and he allowed Tony to help him to the tent, so Tony decided to call it a job well done and lay down to try and get some sleep himself.

 

He dreamt of Steve.

Steve, pointing a gun at him and laughing as he took the jade mask and put it on his already perfect face, telling Tony how gullible he was, how trusting.

( _No,_ Tony thought, _that was Gialetta._ )

Steve, as skinny as ever, eyes empty as he drew sketch after sketch of terrible, horrible things, of war machines and iron men, coming to life the moment he'd finished drawing them.

( _Nope,_ Tony thought. _Sorry, Dad. You kept telling me what was going on, and I kept not listening. Guess I deserved it when you almost killed me. I mean, it was my fault, wasn't it? I could've spoken up. I could've stuck around. I could've done a lot of things, instead of running away. Mea culpa._ )

Steve, warm and alive in his arms, staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

_Huh. Guess I woke up. Good thing, probably. A bit awkward, but good._

 

Another day, another dinosaur. A whole bunch of them, actually, and not a single one of them with vegetarian leanings, it seemed. As an enthusiastic eater of meat himself, Tony supposed he was in no real position to throw stones, but still.

It might have been nice if there'd been just one prehistoric creature that didn't seem intent on eating them. Would have made for a nice picture, too: Tony Stark, the intrepid adventurer, fearlessly astride a fearsome dinosaur. Tony Stark, fearlessly petting a cute (but fearsome) sabretooth tiger cub.

Tony Stark, narrowly escaping death by mauling for the tenth time in a day got a bit boring though.

"You're pretty calm about this," Steve said. He'd stumbled six times and still refused to let Tony carry him.

Tony'd refrained from pointing out that with Steve being such a skinny guy, carrying him wouldn't be much of a feat - and it would almost certainly be quicker than letting Steve struggle on by himself.

"I'm a professional." _I'm an adrenaline junkie who finds it harder and harder to get his fix._

"Hey!" Steve said.

"Me, adventurer. You, artist. There's a difference."

Steve sighed. "So about last night."

"What about it?" He'd told Rhodey: no more models. Rhodey had delivered.

Steve was no model. Steve was sweet and stubborn and skinny. Rhodey claimed he was a friend of a friend, the latter having gone off to fight the good fight.

It wasn't Rhodey's fault that Tony's libido had suddenly decided that blonde and skinny and male would do quite well, thank you. God only knew what the media would make of it if they ever found out.

"You seemed to be having a bad dream. I thought maybe you might want to talk about it."

"Not really, no," Tony said. "I mean, that's not something the readers want to know, is it?"

Steve huffed. "I wasn't thinking about the readers. We're friends, aren't we?"

"Right now, I can safely say there's no one around I love more than you. As a friend, it goes without saying," Tony added smoothly.

"As your friend, I worry about you," Steve said, barely keeping himself upright.

Tony managed to keep a straight face. "I appreciate the sentiment. As an experienced adventurer, I'd say we need to get a move on. Nightfall isn't that far away."

 

"So why me?" Steve asked, once they'd settled in for another night.

Tony hoped he wasn't going to dream again. Steve had, by some miracle, consented to let Tony carry him the last two hours of today's trek.

Tony being exhausted as a result probably was no miracle at all, merely the logical effect of overestimating one's own strength. Still, he'd enjoyed a chance to put his hands on Steve, to experience a bit of harmless, innocent physical closeness.

"Why you?" Tony sighed. "I have no idea. You're here, that's one. You're suicidally brave and annoyingly stupid and sweet and not hard on the eyes, even if you're never going to be able to make a living as a model. That's two. Does there need to be a reason? I'm a gentleman. You say no, that's it. I'm a big boy, I've been turned down before. I can take it."

"I meant the job," Steve said, after a brief pause.

_Well. This is awkward._ "So did I."

"Tony," Steve said.

"We might both be dead tomorrow? Good point. A bit of a Debbie Downer, but you're right. Fine, then, cards on the table. I have nightmares. My last lover turned out to be working for the Nazis, so I've got some trust issues, too. On the plus side, I'm charming, handsome and very experienced."

Steve chuckled. "I noticed those first two."

"Want to find out whether or not I'm bluffing about the last one?"

"I'll take your word for it," Steve said, but then he reached out and pulled Tony closer for a kiss, so that was all right, still mission accomplished and full speed ahead - _and let's worry about tomorrow another day_.


End file.
